Blood Fest
by Duchess of Darkness
Summary: [Ch1 fixed] AU; Always one to attract the weirdest of friends and worst of dangers, Harry finds himself drawn to a deadly creature of the night, one that could cause his very death. And whatmore...? ...He's in love with it. (DH, RH, etc)
1. Chapter One

Disclaimer: I do not own **Harry Potter**. All credit goes to J.K. Rowling.

AN: Revamped (pardon the pun), this story is about fickle Harry Potter and the creatures of the night (aka: vampires and werewolves and any other fictional creature). It is set AU from the wizarding world, so a different type of "magic" will take place.

Warnings: language, violence, BL intimacy

Blood Fest 

**By Duchess of Darkness**

**Chapter I**

**H**arry Potter lifted a brow as he stared warily at his red-haired friend as he sat down in the chair in front of his desk, something folded in his hand. He had been friends with this young man long enough to know that whenever he had that ridiculous grin on his face and sat backwards in that chair with his foot tapping rhythmically, something was going on in his head, and it usually meant that _he_ would get dragged along.

Ronald Weasley snapped open whatever he was holding and slid it across Harry's desk, tapping it with a finger. "We're going to that tonight."

Harry glanced down at the paper before him and snorted, shoving it away. "No."

It was a flier for the anniversary of some club downtown. Not one for large crowds, Harry knew that "club" meant "people" and that didn't mix with loner HP. Unfortunately, somehow, he had attracted this goofball of a redhead who loved social gatherings and clubs and parties. Anything that was worth getting smashed over, Ron tried to take Harry with him. It has been like that for the past however many years of Harry's life since he got to know the other young man, and still he tried to stay away from those parties.

However, because Harry and Ron were best friends (somehow, and Harry didn't know by-God-how), Harry obligated himself the duty of making sure Ron didn't go around killing himself or other innocent civilians whenever he drunk himself stupid.

Ron grinned and pushed paper back across the desk. "You know you're gonna go. C'mon, mate, let's go tonight. The place doesn't really start the partying until late into the evening anyway, so whatever homework or duties you have to do tonight you'll have a lot of time for by the time I pick you up."

Harry shook his head. "No, Ron. I'm not going to some club. You keep trying to get me to go, but I won't."

It was routine to do this, arguing back and forth like a pair of birds. Eventually Ron would win anyhow because no matter what Harry said, he learned a long time ago, all he had to do was go over to the boy's house and he could drag him away without much of a struggle.

"Ah, it'll be fun, Harry," Ron tried again. "You never go out anyway, so you might as well let me help you and give you a push into things."

The black-haired boy snorted. "Hah, as if. You always land yourself into trouble, Ron, and I always get dragged into it because you can't bail yourself out. Remember the time when you nearly attacked a police officer?"

Ron blushed at the memory. Okay, so maybe he was a little tipsy... It was because that one girl rejected him so coldly earlier that night! "Oh, don't hold it against me, mate. I promise not to drink myself silly if you come with me. You can be, er, like my drunk-o-meter and tell me when to stop, okay?"

Harry looked his friend up and down, pushing his glasses up his nose. "You have a death wish, Ron, I swear. But, I'll consider joining out if it'll cut down your drinking. You're worse than your brothers combined!"

The redhead cheered, ignoring that last comment about him and his brothers. It was true, the twins George and Fred were a little eccentric whenever it came to clubs and drinking, but only because they had no fear of whatever punishment their mother would deliver upon them, and it always was an excuse of pulling out the crazier of pranks they could set on their brother Percley who was more like a lamppost than a brother.

"Don't worry, Harry, you'll fit right in." Ron leaned over Harry's desk and tapped the flier again, drawing the boy's attention toward it. "Just look and see, it's your type of crowd. Ahaha, who would've thought that there'd be more people like you in one place?"

Harry snatched the flier up from his desk, crumpled it, and threw it at the redhead, who half-heartedly dodged it. He shooed the other boy away as their teacher came in, having that excuse to get away from the other. Halfway through the lesson, he glanced down at the crumpled up flier that was lying just inches away from his desk. He could just leave it there...

_Ah, bloody hell..._

Drawing the paper with his foot, he casually let his pencil slip from his fingers to the ground and made to pick it up with the flier while the teacher didn't even give him as much as a glance. As quietly as possible, he unraveled it and looked it over. He didn't really know what he was looking at if for, but he guessed that he at least wanted to know where he was going.

'Blood Fest'? What kind of name is that? Ah, oh well. If people are attracted to it, it must be a pretty good club.

Folding the paper up, he stuffed it in the back pocket of his jeans. He wasn't going to look at it until he got back home, and when he did, well, what was he going to do with it? Hang it up on his wall as say, "Hey, this was the first club I ever went to! And why is that? Because my psycho friend dragged me there, that's why"? Well, bitterness wasn't part of his nature, so no, he couldn't say that, but he could look at it more, and actually consider it worthy of his time. Even though he rarely had anything else to do but schoolwork, he didn't like going things that weren't productive. ...Okay, so the internet didn't totally count as productive with the things he did there, but it was far better than hanging around a bunch of hormone-crazy teens and drunkards that probably couldn't control themselves.

It wasn't a habit of Harry's to attract other people as he was rather shy in many cases, but whenever it came to tagging along with Ron on his gallivanting, he tended to run into dangerous people and get near-molested in public. It was also another reason why Harry never went out of his house, let alone his room since his Uncle and Aunt detested his soft features compared to their spoiled, pig-like son, his cousin Dudley.

It was curse to live with his relatives, but this was because when he was very little, Harry's parents died in a freak accident, leaving him in the custody of his Aunt and Uncle and their obese son. He detested him just as much as they hated him, and he had no problem in fending for himself since they wouldn't provide for him. They didn't care about what he did, really, as long as he stayed quiet and didn't bring trouble to their doorstep, but sometimes it was very hard to do so, so he ended up getting abused and locked in his room for as long as possible until they eventually forgot about him and he'd have to pick his way out of all the locks on his door.

That night wasn't very different. After school, Harry crept up to his room, missing Uncle Vernon by a second as the large man entered the main hallway just as Harry disappeared up the stairs. It was always a game of hide and seek, where Harry had to pretend he was the wall and stay out of everyone's way, because his uncle had a horrible temper and sometimes let it out on him just because he was conveniently in his sight.

Silently, he closed his door behind him and laid his things down on his bed. He narrowly missed dropping his things on his laptop, but thankfully, the weight of his objects, caused the mattress the bounce and the laptop to hop away from the offending backpack. Heaving a big sigh, he unhooked his belt and tossed it over the back of his desk chair, slipping off his shoes while he was at it, and threw himself onto his bed, catching the laptop as it hopped again as the mattress bounced around his weight. He had no intention of doing his homework as of yet, and he doubted that that even if he pulled it out he wouldn't get very far. Instead, he pulled that flier out from his pocket and looked it up on the internet.

Harry had to pay for everything he owned, and fortunately, he had found a job that would cover his expenses and ship all his mail and bills through his own personal mail box there. He could pay his things that way, receive his paychecks that way, and have total privacy in his working area. Luckily, he didn't have to work today so everything was cool. Unfortunately, that meant that he couldn't use it as an excuse not to go with Ron to that club tonight. Darn. Well, he couldn't back out of going with him anyway. Knowing Ron, he'd take him out in the middle of work even if he had said he was working.

Ron was very straightforward. Perhaps a little too straightforward... He could practically waltz through Harry's home like he owned because they both knew that the Dursley's wouldn't bother him as long as he didn't bother them and kept quiet and didn't touch anything. In fact, they much rather enjoyed Harry having a friend because it meant that he could keep their nephew off their hands and keep him away from the house so they didn't have to see him (not like they really did anyway whenever he wasn't out).

As always, Ron tossed a small rock at Harry's window before moving to the front door and knocking twice. It was kind of their secret way of telling each other who was at the door. Harry knew to open the door for him and lead him up before any of his relatives even bothered to answer the door. Somehow, they knew when to answer the door and when not too as well.

When Ron came and was led up to the black-haired boy's room, he was strangely dressed. Harry snapped his laptop close and pushed his things aside for both of them to sit, taking a moment to take in his friend's attire. Simply put, he was dressed in all black with the occasion of a few silver accessories here and there. His hair was even trapped under a black cap, hiding most of his bright red hair.

"What are you wearing?"

Ron looked down at himself. "It's the requirement of the club. All persons have to wear black."

Harry looked up pointedly at Ron's crown of hair. "And the hat?"

The redhead consciously touched his head. "I don't like how the lights hit it so I put on a cap." He paused to look his friend over. "You won't have to worry about that, though. So, what are you going to where?"

Even as he asked it, Ron was getting up and ripping open Harry's closet, sifting through the articles of clothing to find the perfect one. It wasn't hard to find dark colored clothing amongst the boy's closet because it was very rare that he wore anything bright against his pale skin, but it was a matter of finding the right combination and style that Ron was interested in.

In time, and a lot of trials, Ron decided on having Harry wear a pair of black leather pants with matching lace-up boots, black cut tank top and fish-net shirt with the add-on of a few weird silver accessories. Harry couldn't say that he enjoyed the look... The tank that Ron had picked out was slightly too small, so they ended up snipping the shirt almost in half, exposing his midriff, and the sides to allow some movement, along with a small snip at the top for a bit of breath-ability. The fishnet was loosely woven, the space of each niche just big enough for him to fit his pinky finger through. Ron had appropriately picked out a simple silver chain to wrap around Harry's neck multiple times like a choker, and a similar bracelet. There was a thought to add several rings as well on Harry's opposite hand, but the black-haired young man settled for one thick thumb ring with a vine-like design on it instead.

Harry felt very ridiculous in this outfit, especially when Ron had forced him to wear his contacts (which he rarely wore because they were so expensive), but he was told over and over that he would be as ridiculous as he felt if he kept his glasses on. Apparently, he looked too dorky for a "cool club" like _Blood Fest_ with his glasses on over his outfit. So, he was necessitated into uncovering his unusual green eyes for the night.

The two left the house without a peep and drove off without Harry's relatives so much as even looking to see where he was going. Harry couldn't really decided if that was entirely a good thing, or a bad thing, but he was happy that he was given such freedom, even if in reality he was being ignored.

They rode out downtown to the packed parking lot of _Blood Fest_. To Harry's surprise, they easily found a free parking space and could quickly walk into the club without much hassle. He asked about it to Ron, but the redhead only laughed and led him further into the club, taking him upstairs to the upper level of the club where a bar was, the area tearing open to the first floor where the main dance floor was. The upper floor was mainly for refreshments, privacy, and a little less raunchy dancing with the mob. He could immediately thank his friend for keeping him away from the larger of crowds, but he wasn't too pleased to find out where exactly he was going.

Still, obligated, Harry let himself slip into the premise and take a seat far away from the others, yet near enough to his friend so to keep an eye on him. The bartender tried to serve him something, but Harry declined the offer, sticking to water, which was free. He sighed as he glanced over at his friend who was eager in wasting his money on booze, shaking his head at the redhead's habits. Not one to mother over things, he let the situation drop and concentrated on the music thrumming in his ears instead.

"Excuse me," a voice interrupted his thoughts.

Harry jerked in the direction of the voice to see a stunning blonde man cloaked in black standing behind him. "Uh, yes?"

The blonde smiled. "Is the seat next to you taken?"

Harry shook his head and drew his glass nearer to him, making space for the blonde to sit and order his own drink. The bartender tried once more to get Harry to buy something, but he politely declined.

"You don't drink?" inquired the blonde, glancing at his glass.

Harry consciously ran a thumb over the rim of the near empty glass. "No, I don't. I don't really like alcohol."

"Then why are you sitting here?"

Cracking an awkward smile, Harry answered, "My friend likes the bar, so I said I would stay and keep him from overflowing."

The other man nodded, returning the smile more gracefully. "How noble of you. ...So then I can assume that you don't like going out?"

Harry glanced at the other man, taking a sip of his water. "What gives you that idea?"

"Oh," he started, lightly flapping a hand at the situation, "don't get me wrong, but you just don't seem like a very out-going person. Call it intuition, if you will. I simply guessed that you let your friend drag you around places while you obligate yourself with the duty of making sure he doesn't attempt something stupid."

Harry almost laughed. "Yeah, you can say that."

The blonde smiled as he heard the laughter in Harry's voice, even though he had not laughed aloud. "...Care to share a bit of personal information?"

"Like what?" the black-haired man asked warily.

"Oh, not to worry, just your name. If you would like, I shall give you mine first. I am Draco."

Harry looked at the blonde with a quirk at the edge of his mouth. "Draco, was it? It's Harry." Awkwardly, he held out his hand to shake the blonde's.

Draco looked down at the hand for a moment before taking it, smiling up at the sparkling green eyes. "Pleasure." He turned to the bartender and added, "I'd like a Bacardi for this young man."

"Same here. Ah-wait! No, I don't drink," cried Harry.

Draco smiled. "Not to worry, you can have just a sip so you cannot possibly get drunk. It's on me."

At this, Harry became even more against the idea. "I told you, I don't drink, so it'll be wasted money. You have it."

The bartender set a glass and bottle in front of the two. Draco offered the drink to Harry with a smile still on his face. "I will. But please, as a way of meeting a new friend, even if I won't see you again after tonight, I would like for you to drink with me."

Harry was disgruntled, but he took the half-filled glass and sipped it, shuddering at the awful taste, before putting it down and downing the rest of his water. He rose his glass at the bartender for another, and shook his head, shifting the drink and bottle toward Draco. "I can't stand alcohol. Take it off me."

Draco chuckled under his breath, missed by the sound of loud music around them. "All right. Pardon me for pushing that upon you. Please, enjoy your water."

Harry nodded and stuck to his water the rest of the night, dropping his conversation and time with Draco to check up on Ron who was probably drowning in his own spit by now. Draco took the opportunity to excuse himself as well, and lost himself in the crowd just as Harry left his seat to join Ron on his end of the table and see if he was still sane.

Fortunately, he could still make out shapes, faces, and names, but Harry didn't have high hopes for the other man. He came back around to his side of the counter to find the blonde gone before he could really say goodbye to him. In his place was a simple paper that read: _I hope to meet you again –Draco_. He didn't know what if he would ever come back again to this place, but he would keep the note with him. He stuffed the note into his pocket and rounded back toward his friend.

Looking around, he couldn't find Draco anywhere. He almost hoped that he would see him again. _He was interesting... Strange, but interesting... I wonder if I'll ever see him again..._

AN:


	2. Chapter Two

AN: thank you for your reviews! I really, really appreciated them! ^^ Yes, Voldemort IS the special fund person of Blood Fest. Connects, right? Power!! . Anyway, for Spider who asked why Harry and Draco didn't recognize each other, well, the reason is because they don't go to school with each other. As I said, this is AU. So. . . this may come to be a disappointment, but school is regular for Ronny-kins and Harry-poo. O.o (I never said that.) Draco, unfortunately, does not appear in anything school related as of yet. Possibly he will, but I'm not entirely sure if that will go with the story. Maybe, maybe not. We'll see.  
  
But anyway, thank you for all of those who reviewed! I was half awake/half asleep when I wrote that! (I still kinda am. . . Oo stupid test. . .) But thanks a bunch anyway! I was wondering if anyone has read my other DM-HP fic: Rusty Cage. Maybe? If not, that's okay, but I was just wondering if anyone saw the notice at the very end that says I'm making an online comic version of it. If not, please look.  
  
. . . Moving on! BF should be put on a regular updating schedule. (I hope.) If I can put myself on a schedule of at least one chapter every week (or so), writing a good amount each time, then there shouldn't be a problem in me slacking off. (Again, I hope.)  
  
So, if I'm done giving my announcements, let's continue!  
  
~Blood Fest~ Chapter Two  
  
A fine brown brow lifted as matching mouse-brown eyes followed a certain blonde make his way toward his usual corner on the floor. "You are such a wonder, Draco Malfoy. . ."  
  
With a small laugh a girl with curly brown hair made her way toward the blonde, the boy male himself unaware of her approach until she was standing in his line of vision.  
  
"Granger, what do you want?"  
  
Hermione Granger smirked. "You should be careful of what you look at, Malfoy."  
  
"I don't know what you're talking about."  
  
"Oh, don't be evasive. I saw that play you did with the black-haired one. And don't tell you didn't do such a thing because I'm not blind. I can see."  
  
"I never said you didn't."  
  
"Then?"  
  
"Then, what?"  
  
Hermione frowned and pointed a finger at the male. "You know your father, Malfoy. You better watch whom you're toying with. You well know the consequences."  
  
Draco crossed his arms, frowning right back at the girl. "Of course I know what my father is like-don't think I don't. But what I want to know is: what's your point? I know what I'm doing-I know what I'm 'toying' with-and I know what cards I play in this."  
  
"As do I. I merely warn you, Malfoy, for you and I both know what lies before us if we are caught in some nonsense, being punished for something so petty. Got it?"  
  
When Draco nodded, Hermione walked away, leaving him in peace of her rants and warnings. As he had told her, he knew what he was doing and what the consequences were of each choice he made. Though it was a gamble each time, he was still willing to make the risk. The boy, he admit, was a special case. To say his liked the boy was hardy anything to say at all.  
  
And speaking of which. . . Draco turned his attention back toward the bar where he saw Harry and his red-haired friend converse and associate with two others at the bar. With a smile, he crept his way along the wall a little closer toward the group.  
  
Harry nodded. "Yeah, it's my first time here. You?"  
  
"Nah, Dean and I have been here a few times."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Yup. In fact, we saw your friend here one time."  
  
Harry lifted a brow at Ron. Ron shrugged. "Like I lied?"  
  
Dean grinned. "He got drunk, I think. That, or he was dizzy from all the lights and dancing. But I bet it was the booze."  
  
Ron blushed, his ears turning red in embarrassment. "I- It was only a swig! It's not like I swallowed more than a few shots or anything like that."  
  
Harry gave his friend a skeptical look. He knew the different amount of drinks one could take, through encountering his uncle's friends when they came over to "discuss business", and if Ron really was a swooning man on his feet, then a "few shots" was hardly what he had-if unless Ron couldn't hold his liquor (which wouldn't surprise him).  
  
But Harry wasn't willing to find out whether or not Ron really was capable of staying sane after drinking. "Ron, I hope you're not drinking this time because I'm not going to be responsible for driving us home tonight." Ron nodded. "Don't worry, mate. I'll be fine. I won't touch a glass." And to contradict his words, he picked up a glass that was just put in front of him by the bartender.  
  
Green eyes widened, a hand immediately coming to push the small glass out of the redhead's hand. "Ron! I thought you just said you wouldn't touch it! For Christ's sake! C'mon, I don't want to be here. Let's go back-"  
  
Seamus and Dean stood up, each taking a hold of Harry's arms. "Aw, you're leaving? But we just met!"  
  
Harry shook them off and grabbed Ron. "Uh. . . that's okay. Ron, let's go." He lifted Ron from his stool, the redhead grumbling from being dragged from his sweet alcohol as they ducked under the metal bar, heading into the sea of dancers.  
  
"Ron, you really are a liar, you know that? You said you wouldn't drink, and what do you do? Go for the bar and order a drink. I'm half glad, half sorry I'm here. At least I'll be able to keep you from serious trouble."  
  
"Trouble. . .?"  
  
"Yes, troub-" Harry paused. That wasn't Ron. Again. Turning, Harry saw a brunette who smiled at him the same way Draco did, lips sealed but still curled upwards in an obvious smile. "Uh. . . hi."  
  
"Hello. I heard you say something about trouble. I'm sorry if I intruded, but I couldn't help it. I was just wondering what you were talking about." She said, still smiling.  
  
Harry blinked several times, slightly shocked. "Er. . . oh. Um, I was just telling my friend that he could get into trouble and I didn't want to be the one to bail him out. That's all."  
  
The girl nodded. "I see. But I hope you weren't talking about having trouble here at Blood Fest because there is rarely any trouble here. In fact, we're called the safest club around."  
  
"You work here?"  
  
The girl nodded again. "Yes, I do. Would you happen to have met the son of the owner? Draco Malfoy?"  
  
Ron, having listened the whole time, piped up. "Draco Malfoy?"  
  
The girl turned to him, smiling and nodding yet again. "Indeed. He happens to have blonde hair. Have you seen him before?"  
  
Ron shook his head while Harry nodded. "I have. I spoke with him but a while ago."  
  
"Oh, good. If you happen to see him again, please, give him my greetings." And with that, she left, leaving Harry terribly confused by her actions and rambling conversation.  
  
Draco frowned. What was that girl up to? He saw the small interaction between the brunette and the boys. It was obvious she was checking out what was so interesting about the black-haired one, but to do it in such a way. . .? Draco couldn't help but frown deeper. Was Granger being a spy to his father now? No. He shook his head. That couldn't be.  
  
"Shut up, Malfoy, you're messing your head up," he whispered to himself, letting his eyes follow the two again.  
  
"Talking to yourself again, Draco?" a small voice drawled, right in his ear.  
  
The blonde turned his head slightly to meet with certain dark-haired female, smirking like she knew something he didn't (which was not likely). "What do you want, Pansy?"  
  
Pansy smiled, her white teeth showing. "Oh, nothing. Just admiring the dragon."  
  
Draco lifted a brow, a bored look on his face. "Again with the nicknames, girl? You know I despise them."  
  
The girl giggled, smiling still. "At least I didn't call you the Ice King, now did I?"  
  
"No, and I'm grateful. Now leave me alone if you have nothing else to do but call me pet names."He turned away to see the black-haired boy weave his way back to the stairs, the redhead reluctantly in tow.  
  
Pansy pouted. "But they're all cute and suit you so well!"  
  
"I said for you to leave if you have nothing better to do than call me pet names, Pansy," he repeated, looking at the girl from the corner of his eye.  
  
Pansy lightly hit the blonde on the shoulder and "humph!"-ed, turning and stomping away, felling rejected, yet annoyed.  
  
Draco only shook his head and turned his vision back to the boys, just in time to see them disappear down the stairs. Draco glared. "Darnit, Pansy, you made me. . ." he trailed off as he pushed away from the wall and moved to follow the two downstairs when a hand caught him. He turned back to see Hermione smiling at him. "What do you want, Granger?"  
  
The girl just smiled and shook her head. "Nothing. But. . . I say that you should be careful, Draco."  
  
"I don't need your warnings again." Draco snapped, pulling out of the girl's grasp. "I can take care of myself." And with that, he wove his way through the crowd and descended down the stairs. He almost immediately saw he black-haired one with his friend.  
  
Oh God, he thought. He saw that they had bumped into his father. Quickly, Draco put himself to a stop, pausing slightly before continuing his way down, this time much slower. When he was in range of his father, he put on a slight grin.  
  
"Father?"he called, distracting the man from his conversation with the boys. "What are you doing here? I thought you never came out of your office?"  
  
A man with the same blonde hair as Draco, only three times as long and finely kept. This man's eyes held a piercing gaze that sometimes even made his very son flinch. A slow smile formed on this man's lips, words emitted from a deep voice. "Ah, Draco, my son. I am only out to see how things are doing. It is but a rare event, no?"  
  
Draco quirked a brow. "Rare indeed," he muttered. "Um, yes. But there's nothing wrong, I assure you, Father," he continued more clearly so that his father could hear him around the music.  
  
"Oh, I know that, my son. I merely wish to come out to look around. I know you have everything under control. You do a fine job in taking care of the club."  
  
Draco smiled as if his father had patted him on the head, though he knew that the complement was nothing, and meant nothing. "Thank you, Father!" He paused to see the one named Harry stare at him with a brow lifted. "Oh, I'm sorry. You were talking to my father. I'll leave you be if you wish."  
  
Harry shook his head. "No, that's okay. You can stay. It's not like there's something you shouldn't hear. You are the co-owner of this place."  
  
Ron looked shocked at this statement. "What? Then you're Draco Malfoy? You're the son of Mr. Lucius Malfoy?? Holy cow!"  
  
Draco turned to the loud boy, frowning. "Is there something wrong with that? Or did you just not expect me to look this way?"  
  
Ron was about to start a sentence when Harry elbowed him in the ribs. "Eheh. Um, he's just surprised with how you look, I guess. But don't worry, there's nothing wrong with the way you look." He quickly glanced from father to son, stretching his smile a bit. "But, um, if you don't mind, I think we should get going. It's nice talking to you Mr. Malfoy, Draco."  
  
Lucius nodded and exchanged a handshake with Harry, the boy doing the same with Draco.  
  
"It's a shame that you have you leave," Lucius said as Harry dragged Ron toward the exit.  
  
Harry waved over his shoulder. "I'll be sure to come back again!" He put on a smile before vanishing beyond the door.  
  
Draco turned to his father, a question etched on his face. When his father turned to him, a smile was upon his lips. "I have a feeling that the boy will be right about coming back, Draco."  
  
Draco watched as his father retreated as well, possibly going back to his office, or maybe to do as he said: look around. He didn't know, but he wouldn't doubt if his father was lying, whether to him or the other two, and he wouldn't be surprised if the man did something entirely different from what he said.  
  
But. Draco shook his head. Never mind that, he thought, and went back upstairs. There, instead of going back to the second floor, he went up another floor and continued until he entered his room, the one that he used whenever he was working at the club. He never went home if he was working those nights, so a room was made for him to sleep in if ever he needed to, and he did after being at the club. The room, surprisingly, shut off more noise. The loud music from floors down could only be heard very faintly, and none of the smells down there protruded through the door either, much to his delight. The only downfall to this room was that if one broke in, he wouldn't hear it until the alarm went off, or someone from below shouted for him through the door. But it never mattered to him. No one who has ever tried to rob something of the Malfoy's has gotten away with it, let alone even touch their prize. Someone was always there fast enough to put the robber down.  
  
Draco sighed as he fell onto his bed, burying his face into the pillow and snuffing out what noise was able to penetrate through to his room.  
  
~*~*~*~*~ AN: And that's it! More characters have made their appearance in this story! Yay! Granger is a bit off in character build, but Pansy sure ain't! Girl's still annoying as ever, right? But anyway, I hope you like what I've done here! Please review!!  
  
Oh, and special thanks to my beta who fixed my story. (Fixed version up now.) Thank you Myrtle! ^^ Your scolding helps me a lot! (And speaking of her, did anyone else have a question about Draco having his glass with him OUTSIDE of the bar? Or no? Because Myrtle did. . .) 


	3. Chapter Three

AN: Ah I lied I totally lied about the regular updating-ness wails I'm sorry And I totally forgot about this story too I'm sorry again sighs This summer of 2004 I'll be attempting to work a bit on each of my stories, especially the forgotten ones that haven't been updated in a while (and aren't on hiatus or discontinued). But I'm happy to be back. I didn't know that people were still reading this story until I started getting notices of new reviews coming in. It was strange... I'm glad you guys still like the story though. Thank youuu glomps

Well, on a side note, I know that some readers are still confused about the familiarities between characters in the story, as well as what each person's roll is, but like I've said before: this is an Alternate Universe story. And no, I won't reveal any secrets. wink

Also, I'm trying to see if people like my newest HP fanfic: **Heaven Forbid**. It's a Harry/Draco slash fic, but my current reviewing readers seem to like it. If anyone is interested, please check it out (if you haven't already) and tell me what you think of it. The storyline, I'll warn, has been done before, but as far as I know, I was one of the earlier authors who have done it (I just had to fix it a bit and redo my old story). Anyway, please don't forget about it.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything from HP or else I wouldn't be writing all these fanfics. Aaand, I wouldn't be so dirt poor. (Joke.) T-T Don't sue me, cuz I don't have anything to give you And no more disclaimers cuz they're wasted space. (Ack I used 'cuz' instead of 'because' Nuoo Not more IM lang Run awaaaay)

**Blood Fest**

**By Duchess of Darkness - Kaz**

**Chapter Three**

Ding-dong

Get the door, brat

Harry growled inwardly and did what he was told. As always, Vernon Dursley was shouting at him to do something the man himself was too lazy (or too busy, as Vernon called it) to do so. But since it was no use in arguing, he threw open the door, about to glare at the visitor when he saw it was Ron.

Harry blinked. Ron?

The redhead grinned. Hey, Harry. Ready to go?

Go where?

Don't you remember what day it is?

Harry frowned, puzzled. Of course he didn't... Oh Looking up, he exclaimed, The festival Then groaning, he added, Oh no... You're dragging me to that, aren't you?

Ron grinned even more. Yup So c'mon, let's go. I'm sure your aunt and uncle won't mind if you skip supper today.

Harry rolled his eyes, finally letting the redhead in. Tch. They wouldn't care if I left anyhow.

Harry led up to his room that was next to his cousin's. He was careful to skip over a certain set of the stairs that squeaked loudly and annoyingly. They entered his room that used to belong to his cousin, but was now his because he didn't fit under the stairs anymore. As funny as it was, being under a flight of stairs while your fat and overweight cousin purposely thumped down them to give you a wake-up call was not that great. It was a good thing that Harry grew and became too big to fit under there, or else the staircase would've eventually fallen down on him under the weight of his cousin.

I don't see why you want me to go.

The boys sat on Harry's bed, Harry leaning against the headboard. Ron looked around the gloomy room and wrinkled his nose.

You know, I can't seem to ever get used to your room. How can you live in such a world?

Harry shrugged. He didn't see what was wrong with his room. Like his clothes, a large portion of his room was black. There was white and a few colors in the mix somehow, but not a lot. The most obvious color, probably, in his room was his bed that was always decorated with green, red, gold or silver. Most of the time, the only color present in Harry's room apart from black and white things, was green. He liked how his room was plain and yet so unusual at the same time. In fact, it was a reflection of himself with his usual dark attire and pale skin and green eyes that he gained from his mother.

Harry looked around his room, glancing at everything, even the photo album sitting on the edge of his desk.

I don't see anything wrong, he said as he rested his gaze on his redheaded friend.

Ron sighed and shook his head. Never mind, mate. Let's just find you something not intimidating for you to wear at the festival.

Harry frowned, standing up with his best friend as he dove through the closet. Intimidating? How are my clothes...?

As his voice trailed, Ron pulled out a black shirt with a skull across the back. He didn't have to say anything as he showed the owner of the shirt the piece. He lifted a brow at the black-haired male and returned the shirt before pulling out another. This shirt was also black but plain, fitted and short-sleeved.

Harry snatched the shirt from Ron. You're not going to tell me this is 'intimidating' too, are you?

Ron grinned. Actually, I pulled it out for you to wear.

Harry sighed exasperatedly. What am I, a doll?

Ron laughed this time. No, you're my _girlfriend_, remember? I'm helping you pick out an outfit, he added with a nod.

The 'girlfriend' threw Ron a disgusted look before changing shirts, pushing the redhead aside to pick out his own pair of pants. He managed with black pants that had several pockets on the side, all lined with a strip of red, the bottom of the pants having red drawstring to close it. After so, he went through his dresser for accessories. A single thumb ring adorned his left thumb; Harry thought of nothing else to wear with his things.

Turning to face his best friend, he posed comically, rolling his eyes afterwards as his friend laughed, falling back on his bed.

Shut up, Ron, it's not that funny.

Ron flapped a hand in the air and slowly got back to his feet, a grin on his face. Well, since you're done, let's get out of here. I'm sure you can't wait to get out of this house, right?

Harry scoffed. Not if it means getting dragged by you to some event. I've told you time and time again that I don't do those things, Ron.

Ron kept grinning. Then why are you dressed? You could've very well just have kicked me out. Your willingness is your acceptance. So, let's go.

Without waiting for the other to reply, the redhead dragged him out and down the stairs, out of the house without much of a word. It wasn't like Harry's family cared about him. Though it was harsh, it was true. The three never treated him like an equal individual. (But then again, they didn't treat anyone else besides themselves equally.) Ron hated how Harry grew up, with no real father and mother, nor sister or brother to take care of or take care of him. It felt like his duty to help his friend, especially with the way he turned out. Ron didn't meet Harry until they were starting Junior High, crossing paths in the cafeteria where they would find their schedules. Though treated indifferently and almost coldly, Ron was attracted to Harry and wormed his way into his life, learning about him and becoming his best friend. Ever since, they seemed like an odd, but inseparable pair. They currently attended the same High School and it was only by coincidence that they ended up with almost all the same classes. The only main difference, really, was their electives; Harry sat in front of a computer for an hour while Ron kicked a ball across the field to score goals. Much to say, they were almost the exact opposite, from appearance to attire to likes and dislikes to attitude and personality. But that didn't change the fact that they also rubbed off on each other after so many years. Harry, finally, began to open up a little, talking to others other than Ron and teachers. Ron learned a bit about keeping his mouth closed, though that didn't stop his emotions from flaring when they could.

Now, Ron shoved Harry in the car and climbed in on the driver's side, starting it up and driving to the festival.

A yawn followed by a leisured stretch broke the silence in the air. Blue eyes blinked several times before landing on the figure next to him. He watched as green eyes stayed on the night's sky, shifting every once in a while as if looking for something. For the first time since he'd known the green-eyed male, he had never seen such a simple look of wonder and curiosity. Smiling, he averted his gaze to the near empty lot. Litter covered the floor, a show of people's gratitude and manners. Of course, there was no one present other than a few workers from the festival to take care of the mess left behind.

Ron glanced back at Harry and grinned. You know, that's the least solemn I've seen you in all my years knowing you.

Harry tore his eyes away from the sky and looked questioningly at his best friend.

You actually look... calm and a bit happy, Ron explained.

The corner of the boy's lips twitched upwardly forming a hint of a smile. He turned back the sky and continued to reminisce, drowning once more in his thoughts. It was several long moments until he got up and excused himself, leaving his friend by the bench to find a lavatory. He didn't know where one was, but he was certain that the 24-hour general store had one. Heading toward it across the street, Harry entered and took care of his business with no distractions except for buying a small bottle of red Gatorade.

As he exited the store, he opened his drink, putting it up to his lips and about to sip when he heard it. It was muffled whimpering, coming from... behind the building? Harry froze, eyes looking off to the side for a moment. He took his sip and slowly lowered the bottle as he heard the whimpering again, only louder.

Harry glanced around him. Was he supposed to go over and see what was going on? Or just walk away like he didn't hear a thing? Wait, what was he thinking? A cold man he may be, but he couldn't leave someone alone if they were really in trouble. Capping his drink, he slowly approached the side of the building, peeking over the side to see no one there. But even so, he caught the shadow of several people around the very back of the store. As he slid around to get closer to the scene, his silence let him hear hushed voices.

Just take her already

No, one hissed. _She_'s still not here yet.

Why do we have to wait for her just to take this one?

Because I'd kill you if you did, was a new voice, feminine compared to the previous two. Another shadow appeared by the group.

A gulp was heard as the previous spoke, stuttering. A-ah... I-I'm sorry. I just don't see what the r-reason is to wait. Can't we just...?

The female voice snorted and from her shadow, she shook her head, waving a hand. Don't worry about it. Just watch and learn.

The shadows of the others nodded, stepping back as the female approached a quivering person who stood alone. Harry frowned as the whimpering person's scared sounds increased, becoming even louder. He cautiously approached the corner of the building and pressed his back to the wall, turning his head to witness the attack. When he saw a cloaked figure brush a gloved hand through a young woman's hair and circle around to rest behind her head, lowing their own to the woman's neck, his eyes widened in shock. Though he couldn't tell for sure who this person was, they opened their mouth to reveal sharp canines. They titled the quivering woman's head back, the woman unsure of how to escape, gasping and crying as the cloaked figure latched their mouth to her neck, the sound of something piercing flesh almost echoing in the silent air. Harry only gaped, mouth hanging open. He watched as the figure kept their head to the woman's neck, blood dripping from the side of her neck as the person finally pulled away. The woman closed her eyes, crying still.

The cloaked figure gripped the woman's hair and held her up as the woman slumped, her legs unable to support her. The cloaked figure turned to three other cloaked persons and said, revealing to be the female from earlier, There. It's not that hard. But if you want to have fun, you don't have to be so lenient and kind. I could show you, but I don't do that. She dragged the woman to the others, letting them catch her as she wiped her mouth. She continued. You can do as you wish. Feed.

A dull _thud_ interrupted her, drawing all four heads to jerk in one direction, spotting a black-haired, green-eyed male. The cloaked female growled and gestured to two of the others.

Kill him.

At that command, they ran toward the male.

Harry jerked as they spotted him, two rushing toward him. Immediately, he turned and ran as fast as he could, not bothering to look over his shoulder to see how close they were behind him. He closed his eyes briefly and didn't bother glancing both ways of the street as he crossed, a car nearly running into him, blaring its horn. It was only when he was on the other side did he open his eyes again and look over his shoulder, not daring to stop or slow down until he was within Ron's line of vision, the redhead still sitting on the bench.

Ron frowned slightly as he watched the green-eyed male jog toward him, falling heavily on the bench with a big sigh. Looking sideways at him, he inquired, What did you do, run across a busy freeway?

Harry glanced at him. Sorta.

He wiped his mouth and rubbed his fingers together before running a hand through his hair. He looked around him, watching for any cloaked figures to come at him with anger flaring in their eyes and baring their teeth. The workers were still there trying to clean up, but he didn't feel safe enough with their small company. Standing up, he faced the redhead and suggested going home already.

Ron eyed his friend curiously but didn't question. He yawned and stretched. Ah, I'm tired anyway. Let's go.

The two walked back to the redhead's car, Ron starting up the car and heading back to Harry's house without much of a question to the other's urgency. He was, though, interested in what made the other's usually calm expression turn wild and frantic, fear and confusion deep within his eyes. When he bid the black-haired male goodnight, he couldn't help but pause and stare after his friend before driving off, not at all paying attention to two cloaked figures at the corner of the street.

Once the redhead's car was out of sight, one of the cloaked figures shifted, stepping forward a bit. That one's eyes are strange... such a rare color for someone like him.

The other figure snorted and spoke, revealing to be the female voice before. Tch. Just another brat sticking his nose where it doesn't belong. He was probably there for the whole performance." She paused to hit the first on the back of the head. It's your fault. You didn't shut her up. It can only explain how he was there. Idiot

At that moment, a third cloaked figure appeared next to them, a smile in their voice. Don't worry, we'll kill him. If not, we can always take him to _him_.

The female snorted. He has too much fun. We shouldn't be given another toy.

The first male chuckled. But you have to admit, that boy there is rather... interesting.

Oh, shut up. Let's go. The female gestured over her shoulder before walking around the corner. The two males followed soon after in silence, each taking their turn in glancing back at the house the black-haired boy entered.

* * *

AN: Well, that's it for my chapter. I hope you guys like it. A lot of new things going on, don't you think? And who attacked that innocent woman? What's in store for dead Harry now? Who knows Let's just see how far this goes and how fast I'll update. I look forward to many wonderful reviews Cheers

_Updated: 7/03/04_ (I'm gonna try and keep track of when I update this story...)

PS: Thanks to Sax who mentioned that something was wrong with the chapter when I first updated it. I hope that it's fixed now.


	4. Chapter Four

AN: I'm back. I hope you're ready for another chapter full of surprises! No promises (or revealing) on who, but new character appearances! And for the concerned, no, this fanfic is not Harry/Cho based. If you don't mind, please go back and read the summary and you'll notice all the initials of the main pairs. I'm sorry if this discourages you, but hey, you should've paid more attention to the summary and what you were getting yourself into. grins wickedly

**Blood Fest******

**By Duchess of Darkness - Kaz**

**Chapter Four**

Pale blonde hair drooped and stuck to the wet skin under it. Several droplets of water fell from the outer strands, hitting the black and white tiles beneath bare feet. With a simple jerk of his head, the water that clung to his hair flew in a single general direction, wetting the painted wall behind him. Slender fingers slid amongst the wet strands, pulling them away from his face. As grey eyes trailed up from the sink to the running faucet and on to the mirror, they caught site of alabaster skin. They could see from just below the hips, and worked their way slowly up over the honed body of a man in his later teen years (though his mental age was quite the opposite) until they reached the young man's youthful face. [1]

Grey eyes blinked and a hand came up to brush a fallen strand of hair out of their line of vision. With a small sigh, the faucet was turned off and a white robe with a silver monogram on the left breast was wrapped around the young man's body before his feet took him outside into the hall. A maid passed him silently after initiating a low curtsy that he waved at dismissively. When the maid left him, he walked along the long hall decorated with a gothic theme. It wasn't the kind of "gothic" theme that spoke of mainly black shades; rather, the style was based off pieces like the Notre Dame in Rheims, France, relating to western Europe between the twelfth and fifteenth century. Some of the work displayed to compliment the architectural style was grotesque to look at, but after so many years of living here and wandering its halls, he had come to ignore most of it. It was still a wonder, though, if some of the things he passed by as he walked were too alarming and well crafted for human eyes. Not that it mattered. No sane or unbound human ever set foot inside; especially this deep into private territory.

His feet automatically led him to his quarters. Though his steps were light, they still could be heard yards ahead of him since he walked on the tile that stretched all along the hall and down others. If he made the effort, he could make his footsteps so light it would be as if he wasn't even walking, but that took concentration that he wasn't willing to give. Instead, he kept to his normal walk, lighter than a normal human's tiptoe, but not by far off.

As he reached a set of doors guarded by two men armed with daggers, he nodded to the closest to him and walked inside as the man opened the door for him in response. Inside those walls, he opened the closet and absently pulled out a set of clothes. Dropping his robe, he managed to slip on a pair of silk black boxers and a pair of loose dark blue jeans before a knock was heard at his doors. He admitted the visitor in as he pulled on an undershirt and a thin, light off-white sweater, meeting them halfway across the room. He recognized the visitor to be his friend, Blaise. [2] And unfortunately, behind him was another person, one he'd rather do without in a visit.

"Blaise. _Granger_," he said, nodding to each of them.

Granger flipped a strand of brown hair over her shoulder as she smiled back. "Such attire, _Draconius_."

Draco snorted at the girl's mocking manner in stressing his name as he did hers. "Have I not told you to call me by my other name? I would not care if you so much as used my last name, but please refrain from my birth name. It sounds terribly ill on your tongue." [3]

The young female only smiled back and obligated herself to sit on the queen-sized bed in the middle of the room. [4] Her first two fingers pressed together and drew a line in the air across her closed, smiling lips. "Of course not, Malfoy. I wouldn't dare spill your blood-soaked name."

Casting the young woman a black look, Draco turned to his friend and addressed him. "What did you need of me, Blaise?"

Blaise threw the blonde a grim look. "I have only one word. Pansy. She was caught out after hours doing you-know-what. And thing is, a witness saw her feed and escaped alive. Your dad wants you to 'talk to her'. More like beat some sense in her. I don't know what she was doing, but I think she was showing off to the commoners again."

Draco didn't even curse or slam his fist against anything at this news. Frankly, he didn't want to waste his energy showing how disappointed and peeved he was at the girl's actions. He simply shook his head in disgust and waved his hand in dismissal.

Blaise didn't move from his spot, however. "Also, Draco..." When the blonde turned his attention back to him, he continued. "Um, the... He... Sir Rid-... Uh..."

The blonde raised a hand to stop the other's stumbling. He knew whom Blaise was trying to speak of, and understood the other young man's hesitation and fear of merely speaking the name. Draco never liked speaking of or to the man either, but it couldn't be avoided when he summoned him constantly. With a small sigh, Draco patted the other man's shoulder as he passed him to his nightstand and retrieved a comb from the top drawer.

"I know. When does he want me?" he asked as he ran the comb though his damp hair.

Blaise held in a wince at the blonde's acceptance. "Well, either before or after you deal with Pansy. And... he didn't mind you multitasking either. Like he's mentioned before, he loves seeing you work."

Draco had long ago abandoned the feeling to shudder at those words. With a nod, he turned to the brunette watching him from the corner of his bed. "What about you? Why are you here?"

Hermoine Granger threw him her small, mischievous-yet-innocent smile again. "Oh, I'm simply here to act like a toaster and warm your bed while you're away."

The blonde glared before responding. "Go warm someone else's bed, why don't you? I don't want your filth on my bed." He paused to dramatically pose in a thinking position, brows creased on his forehead. "Oh, wait! You can't find a mate, can you? But I wouldn't blame any man out there. They wouldn't want any impure blood you hold." [5]

Hermione suppressed a deep growl and looked away, hiding her expression of anger and hurt. Very few ever got away with poking fun at her bloodline, and Draco, unfortunately, was one of those few because of his power over her. She shot Blaise a warning glance as she caught him looking at her in some half-brained expression humans called sympathy. No way in hell did the man truly care about her. They never did. She inhaled sharply and composed herself before glaring back at the blonde who smirked at he looked down at her while he combed his goddamned perfect hair. Sometimes she really wanted to hate him to the extent of killing him. But no, she would keep her cool and the act of a proper young woman.

A knock interrupted them as one of the double doors opened before Draco could even open his mouth to let the person in. There was only one person who barged in on him without thinking of the resident's privacy. Draco turned on his heel to meet his father, bowing slightly.

"Father."

Lucius Malfoy stepped into the room, a black and silver cane tapping against the tiles on the floor, echoing sharply with each tap. He stopped just a few feet away from his son before addressing him, not bothering to even glance at his company.

"Draconius. I see you're still dawdling here with your... friends. I hope you received your orders?"

Draco nodded. "Yes, Father. And excuse me if I say so, but what brings you here to my room?" He didn't bother to verbally note on his father's stress on the word 'friends'. He knew that his father didn't fully agree with his mingling with the lesser of their kind, but never said this aloud, especially not to his face. Draco had demonstrated his power to his father once before when they argued, and though the elder Malfoy had more power, he didn't want to risk any rebellion from his son and whomever he might persuade to back him up. It was a complicated relationship, between the two of them.

Lucius finally glanced past his son to look at his guests. "Not much, really. Simply that I wish you make a thorough interrogation with that girl and distribute the appropriate punishment — not like last time. It may bring you some shock, but to warn you ahead of time — don't get used to it — her witness is a familiar of yours. I think you'll remember who it is once you pry the words out of that guttersnipe's mouth."

The thought of someone he knew catching Pansy in the act sparked Draco's curiosity as well as alarm. With a nod to his father, he sorted his thoughts while the elder Malfoy left the room, snapping shut the door behind him. Turning to Blaise, he lifted a brow in a curious manner, obviously asking for some sort of answers.

Blaise shrugged and shook his head. "It would be best if you asked her yourself, Draco."

With a nod and strained smile, he turned to leave the room, stopping by the door to turn back to the other two. "Oh, Blaise, if you would, fetch me a whip and something to hit. I have a feeling I'll be angry by the time I get back here. And Granger, get off my bed, you sod." [6]

Hermione slipped off the large bed with a sniff. Resisting the urge to do something childish like stick her tongue out after his retreating form. She sighed and shook her head as the door snapped shut after him, and turned to Blaise who only gave her a blank look. She wrinkled her nose before leaving the room as well, her walk expressing her repressed emotions.

* * *

A double knock on the door signaled his arrival. Looking up, Pansy watched the blonde with enter the room, eyes immediately on her as he reached the center. He took in her form, sitting on a long bench on the far side of the room, no restraints on her despite what she had done. Her dark hair stuck to the back of her neck and her face, sometimes getting in her eyes. The blonde shook his head and stepped forward a bit, placing a hand on his hip.

"Tell me, Pansy, what ate its way into your brain and killed that thing called common sense? What is one of our top rules here?"

Pansy lowered her head. "I'm sorry, Draco."

Footsteps told her that he moved closer to her, perhaps even stood not but a few feet away from her, but she didn't dare look up at him. Draco could be stern when he needed to be, and ever since met him, she practically worshiped him. She always wanted to make him happy and prove herself to him, but most of the time she would mess up and then be looked down upon. Draco knew what she was trying to do for him, but even so, that didn't mean he would go easy on her just because he knew she loved him. There was barely anything that he would let her pass on, but when if was something like this... getting caught... She only feared what would be done with her, not to mention the deeper humiliation and pain she would receive just by talking to Draco right here and now.

"Don't say you're sorry, Pansy. If you were sorry, you would've stopped this game a long time ago."

"Game?" she repeated, looking up with wide eyes. She lowered her head when she saw the serious and his unsympathetic look. "Right... Game."

A small sigh caught her attention again and she dared to look up to see the blonde sit beside her. "Pansy," he started. "What the hell did you do the other night? I heard from Blaise and _my father_ that you were seen by a human."

Pansy exhaled sharply. "Well, I wanted to teach your two goons and two other lowlifes how to properly hunt and feed, so I tested them. I had them go and capture some stupid human."

"And in your 'teaching', why didn't you let them feed instead of helping yourself to the woman?"

Pansy managed to smile sheepishly. "I was hungry. And since they caught someone, I figured that I would help myself to a meal and give a bit of a demonstration. You know, show off."

"Well, in showing off you forgot about the first few rules about hunting. You neglected to shut your victim up, not to mention make sure no one was around. By gods, behind a human store? The least you could do was stage this an abandoned house or something." He had recently got this tidbit of information about what happened during Pansy's nighttime lesson on his way over here. "You couldn't have gotten yourself into more trouble than you already are with your current record, girl."

Pansy winced at the word 'girl'. Draco didn't say it with a teasing or light tone in his voice, and that fact made her feel even more stupid than before. She was hurt and angry. She wasn't angry with Draco. No, she was angry with herself. In a shot, she was on her feet, screaming. "It's all Crabbe and Goyle's fault! They didn't shut her up in the first place! If anything the blame should be on them. Everything was fine until that wretched boy came. His damn black hair and green eyes! Curse him! I'll kill him!"

Draco was on his feet as well. "Pansy!"

"What!"

With narrowed eyes, Draco said, "Describe him again. Tell me who this boy was."

Pansy was too angry to note the blonde's sudden change in behavior. "I don't know his name... Maybe Crabbe or— Wait. Yes, I heard that dumb-looking redhead say it. He was saying goodnight to him and said his name. I think... Yes! His name was Harry." By now Pansy was fuming. "Horrid Harry with his inky hair and green eyes that shone like a cat's at night. I hate him for doing this to me." Of course, Harry hadn't Pansy at all. But the overall effect of him witnessing her feed was humiliating and horrible as is. "I'll kill him," she repeated.

Draco's eyes narrowed until they were nearly slits. "No."

Pansy stopped and blinked at the blonde. "What? How can you not want that boy's death! I want to kill him!"

Draco, whose eyes were focus on something unseen, focused again on the dark-haired girl. "No. I'll take care of him. You are not to be seen with the humans again."

Pansy dropped back onto the bench, eyes wide. "What?" Her voice was small confused.

The blonde followed her with his eyes. "You heard me. You didn't forget your punishment, didn't you? I'm sorry Pansy, but you are forbidden to go out. I'll notify all the guards that you are not to leave this property, let alone this house. You will not be given permission by anyone other than myself to leave. Understood?"

Pansy sank into the bench. "Yes," she replied softly, defeated. She wouldn't defy Draco, especially when he carried that controlled angry look. She sighed and went back to staring at the floor as she heard the blonde leave the room, slamming the door behind him. She didn't know Draco would be so harsh on her this time. Usually she would still be able to go out; it was just that she had to have guard at her heels at all times. Rarely was she restricted to go out. In fact, it only happened twice. The first time when she was just barely learning about her life, and then when she nearly got killed and was held in for her own sake as well as others who had to go out and deal with the mess she made.

With another sigh, she drew her knees up to her chest and rested her chin, humming to herself to pass the time.

* * *

Draco threw his fist at the wall, the sound of skin smacking with a solid object echoing in the closed space. A light voice was heard from behind him.

"What's the matter, my dear boy?"

Draco rounded on the speaker and threw him a black look. "May I be excused?" he asked instead. "I do not see fit to accompany you today."

"Nonsense," came the voice again. "It should actually do you some good."

With a sharp sigh, Draco turned his back on the speaker again and stared at the wall. There was a small dent where his fist had been, and he knew he would have to get someone to fix it. He pressed his hand over the dent as if he could make it go away and shook his head mentally. There were too many things going on his head, and Pansy just had to add to it. That boy Harry... There wasn't a doubt that the one Pansy had described was the same boy he had met at his club not but long ago. Draco would admit (even if only to himself) that he had taken an interest in the boy, but... since he saw Pansy, would he have to kill him? Harry was such a beautiful human... To kill such a wonderful creature...

An arm snaked around his waist, cutting off his thoughts. Draco pushed away from the wall and turned to the one who violated his personal space. "What do you want?" he half growled.

Deep red eyes met his grey irises. A dark smirk appeared on his lips. "Nothing, dear Draconius. But you look troubled. Why? Is it because of the girl and her stupidity? I don't see why you spare her. If anything, I say save your neck and kill her before she does something even more stupid. ...If that's even possible," he added with a laugh.

Draco pushed away from the other man and skirted him. "Pansy's had her mistakes. She'll learn eventually."

"Will that be before or after she's risked your life and all the others?" came the terse reply.

Draco didn't answer. He stared ahead and didn't bother to push away when his waist was encircled again, a chin resting on his shoulder. He turned his head to the opposite side, closing his eyes. With a deep sigh, one of the few signs of his exhaustion, he rode it out, letting the hands on his waist work, complying to their demands and going with the rhythm. He didn't care at the moment. Though it was sickening, he needed to be distracted. So, when lips descended upon his, he responded, no matter how much his body screamed in defiance. His mind need the release, even if only his body would respond.

* * *

* * *

AN: Aaand... that's it. Well, for the chapter anyway. I finally took the time to go and write this... It took a few looking-backs, but I guess you can say I like how it turned out overall. It's a little look into Draco's life, and I hope you liked it. Yes, it was Pansy who killed that poor woman. Pansy's a little off, but she's got the basis of a worshiping-Iloveyou-haughty kind of character.

[1] The vampire legend stereotypically states that these creatures of the night cannot see their reflection. Since this story does not follow the normal and straight line, I have my vampyres able to see their reflection in a mirror. However, they cannot be photographed nor taped. There's something about their atoms that don't mix well with modern technology... (And if you didn't figure it out by now — shame on you! — of course we're talking about Draco here.)

[2] Just a short question— what's Blaise's last name? I knew it at one point, but forgot and don't know how to spell it. Ah, and not to mention I don't know what he looks like. Is he black-haired? Ulgh, I don't know anything. I don't even remember how to spell Pansy's last name! Ulgh, I have such bad memory. Help, please?

[3] If that made no sense, since I have no experience with olden ways of courteous speech — aka: I don't know how people talked in the early nineteenth century and late eighteenth — I tried and made up a way of saying that Draco would prefer if Hermione not use his birth name, Draconius when she could very well use his other names for to him is sounds awful and dreadful. Get it? I just thought that maybe a little explaining might help those who don't know or are somewhat confused with my pseudo speech. (Just for kicks, and mind you, I'm a bad English speaker and have a mouth like a toilet to boot.)

[4] If it was never mentioned, I'd like to take note right now that Hermione in this story will be quite the opposite of her normal character except for her perceptiveness and brainpower. Mainly, her personality is most fitting to that of a smart, haughty and nearly prissy (though not too much so) young woman. If you can't imagine that, imagine a rich, spoiled brat, only smart and not entirely so. I will say that in this story, so far, Hermione will be very bold around Draco and co. and blunt whenever speaking her mind. Call her a dragon, if you will. I have no earthly clue how to express how she is except she could be called a nicer, female version of Draco... WAY nicer, and less prissy. Hermione's physical traits generally remain the same, though her thick hair is a little more trimmed and better kept.

[5] True to Hermione's impure blood in the book, here her vampyre blood is 50-50. Her mother was human and her father was a vampy. In legends, vampires past her blood onto someone else through feeding and the exchanging of blood. Though this may be true here as well, I've given the female vampyres an opportunity to have offspring. It doesn't happen often, female vampires, but when it happens, and they wish to breed, they can. It's even more rare for a two species to breed. Humans normally detest vamps, while in return they see humans as cattle — food. However, it can happen, and thus this is how Hermione came to be. Half-breeds are normally looked down upon, but there are several with exception either because of their looks or the power their possess and their potential. (In the near future I'll explain the vampiric world to your readers.)

[6] There are two definitions for the word sod. One: grass, land, turf, etc. Two: a person regarded as obnoxious or contemptible. I really would've liked it if Hermione was called a piece of land because that would've just been downright funny, especially since Draco's using it as an insult. But because it's normally seen as an insult in the British language, you can see it as such. Well, however you see him using it is up to you. But I think you have an idea of what I'd like it to be or see it as. (Heh.)

_Updated: 7/24/04_

_PS: I really hate 's new updating system.... Just so you know....._


	5. Chapter Five

**Important Note**: I apologize, guys, for the wait. You see, school's started and I'm trying to get used to the pace of things. Very different, I tell you. Now that I've got the time, I've given you another lovely chapter. I cannot, however guarantee when another chapter will be up. I noted in **HF**'s ch7 how I'd only be working on it and a FF7 story of mine, **CO**. All other works are set aside for a while, or else just updated less frequently. I figured this is horrifying news for you all, but dedicated readers should know of my habit and what happens when I pay too much attention to my stories and not my school work.

I apologize again and again, guys. I would never abandon you. Please, enjoy this new chapter and review. And cross your fingers and wish real hard, you never know, the next chapter may come up next week, or next MONTH. (That sounds really terrible, even to me, y'know.)

**Reminded Disclaimer**:Once again, I do not own the HP series. (Since it's been so long since I've updated, I thought a reminder could be put into use.)

**Another Important Note**: Yes, 10/7/04 (Thursday) was BF's birthday! How could anyone forget! It's one year old now, and (sadly) only has four chapters out! Oh no! Hopefully, by it's next birthday, it will either be finished, or have more chapters out. I'm terribly sorry for such a delay on the updating. I'm a terrible, terrible writer. smacks self I left you hanging with such a cliff hanger! Huaa And not to mention I'm super tired right now and I have a headache. Ulgh, I hope you guys still like the chapter nonetheless.

**What's Happened So Far**: Well, you should know that in our last chapter, we had a snippet of Draco's lovely life. Well, not really. He has a bed deal with a certain red-eyed person, Pansy's given a punishment so bad, she can't leave the room she's confined in, and worst off, the little black-haired, green-eyed human that happened to make his way into Draco's club happens to be the same human who witnessed Pansy take a late night snack behind a corner store. Uh-oh. Draco's got a lot on his mind, and we're about to find out how he's going to deal with this offense to the Vamp Code. Will he have to kill off his new "pet"? Will he turn the other way? This boy's under a lot of stress, and Blaise seems like the only friend our Malfoy can rely on.

**Blood Fest**

**By Duchess of Darkness - Kaz**

**Chapter Five**

---

Water hit his face. Several drops rolled from the corner of his eyes. Grey irises stared into the showerhead, ignoring the droplets that obscured its vision. Images that played over and over in his head were far more vivid than anything he saw at the moment. He didn't know how long he had been standing in the shower. The tips of his fingers were starting to prune. His body felt soaked to no end. He was weird all over. He opened his mouth and bared his teeth. Canines jabbed his skin and he bit down on his lower lip. Blood slid past his tongue and down his throat. A gasp followed by a long sigh bounced off the tiles.

"You sound tired and at a lost, prince."

Grey irises turned away from the water droplets splashing his face and met brown hues that matched the dark hair. "What do you want?"

A small, apologetic smile crossed the dark-haired man's lips. "Nothing. I'm just concerned."

The water was immediately shut off. He got out from under the showerhead and faced his childhood friend. "What for?"

Again, a small smile appeared. "Do not exhaust yourself with trivial matters. I know you are worried of that boy. And as for Pansy, I can understand that as well, but you shouldn't kill yourself over this, Draco."

Draco shook water out of his pale-blonde hair. "Leave me be, Zabini."

Blaise Zabini flinched slightly. It wasn't often that Draco Malfoy addressed him by his last name after so much time as friends. Draco would only use his last name when he was being stern with him, or else he was under a deal of stress. Blaise sighed inwardly and turned around and grabbed a towel for the blonde. He handed it to him and watched Draco wrap the towel around his waist.

Draco ran a hand through his hair and glanced at Blaise. "You don't have to worry about me, Blaise. I'm fine."

Blaise blinked before answering. "But with so many troubles on your mind? Draco, I know you. You've been going over the same questions since you left _His_ room. ...Are you okay?"

Draco stared at the dark-haired man. It was a while before he finally nodded. "It _is_ trouble. ...Do you remember that human I told you of?"

Blaise frowned, unsure of where this was heading. "Yes."

Draco shook his head and started walking toward the bathroom door. "He's the same human who saw Pansy a week ago."

Blaise followed the blonde out of the room and back to his chamber. "I see," he finally said when they were back in the blonde's room. "So... what are you going to do about it? Didn't you say that you might consider him..."

Draco disappeared into his closet and came back dressed in loose forest green pants and a cream colored long-sleeves shirt that exposed most of his shoulders. His towel was slung over his shoulders, preventing his shirt from getting wet from his wet hair.

Draco threw Blaise a look. "Perhaps, but if he really did see, I would have no choice but to kill him."

"Or you could turn him."

Draco gripped the towel around his shoulders. "That's not an option. He can only either be a slave, or _dead_. We cannot turn him."

"Then you would rather have him as a slave? I doubt you really want to kill him, Draco. He's been the most interesting to you so far. Not since--- "

A hiss escaped Draco's lips as he glared at the dark-haired man. "Don't you dare. That has long since passed and I will not make that mistake again."

Blaise laid a hand over his heart; it was an old sign used to show a person didn't mean any harm. He added an apologetic smile to emphasize his apology. "It still concerns me, Draconius."

Draco stared at his friend and sighed. Shaking his head, he pulled down his walls and sat down on the bed with Blaise. By the tone of Blaise's voice, Draco could tell he was serious. "All right. But what do you suggest I do with this problem?"

Blaise smiled slightly in return. "Well, assuming you don't want to kill the boy, you could always stalk him and lure him in and persuade him into being your slave. I mean--- it's the only other option you have."

Draco threw his friend a look and fell back onto the bed. He felt Blaise lie down beside him. When he looked to the corner of his vision, he saw the dark-haired man stretched out on his side, propping his head up on his elbow. "That did not help me, you know."

Blaise shrugged with one shoulder. "Well, this is all IF he saw. If he didn't, then you're fine. You can watch him all you like when he comes back to the club. Just better watch out for your father."

"Don't remind me." Draco rolled his eyes in a lazy manner before breaking into a grin, turning onto his side to face his friend. They stared at each other for a moment. Draco didn't know how to show his thanks too well, so he did the first thing that came to mind. Placing his hand on the mattress to support him, he leaned forward and kissed Blaise. (1)

Blaise's eyes widened. In all his years alive, Draco had never done something like this before. A thanks, he knew, was hard for the blonde, but they had gone as far as a small hug. A direct kiss on his lips was a really big leap for both Draco and him. So, when the blonde pulled back after what seemed eternity, Blaise couldn't think of anything to say.

Draco stared at him, expecting a response. It was the first he had done anything like that before. Well, maybe not kiss another boy, but certainly kissing his best friend since they were infants. When Blaise just stared back at him like a fish, he frowned.

"What?"

Blaise took a moment before shaking his head. "Nothing. I- I'm just... surprised. You've never..."

Draco did the impossible and lowered his gaze. When he realized how uncharacteristic he was acting, he quickly composted himself by snorting and turning his back. "Well, don't expect anything like that again anythime soon."

Blaise nodded to Draco's back and stared down at the space between them. What could he expect after something like that? He licked his lips and smiled inwardly. It may not happen again, but he was happy it happened the first time.

---

(2) Harry tapped the erasure end of his pencil on his desk and rested his chin in his hand, propping his arm up on the corner of the desk. How long had it been since that incident at the park? Harry wished that Ron never took him out in the first place. He wanted to stay in his hole of solitude. But then again, if he hadn't met Ronald Weasley, he would never have met _him_.

Something bounced off his head and distracted him from his already faraway thoughts. Turning around, he spotted a crumpled up piece of paper in the middle of the isle. He glanced at the possibility of students who could have thrown it and almost immediately saw Ron flashing him a smile and a 'V' sign with his index and middle fingers. Harry frowned at his best friend and quickly stanched up the piece of paper before the teacher looked his way. As quietly as he could, he unraveled the paper and read the hastily scrawled note.

_Hey Harry!_

_You've been staring at the front of the classroom for nearly 20 min. now, right? I bet I know what you're thinking about. Haha! It's Mr. What's-his-name, right? Jeez, Harry, grab a girlfriend, why don't you? That brunette at the club seemed pretty cute, if not for the fact she looked kinda like a whore. (Heh.) Oh, hey, did you want to go back to the club sometime? You can meet Prince Mysterious and Pompous again and I can go tangle with the women you just seem to attract by existing. Heck, you're a babe magnet, Harry! (As they say in movies.) Your whole dark aura crap draws them in! Whoo! We gotta go back sometime. Ya never know; girls might start becoming attracted to my red hair!_

_Let's march over to your house after school. We can go clubbing tonight!_

_--Ron_

Harry rolled his eyes inwardly and crumpled the paper again as he threw a look at the redhead. He shoved the note inside his desk and tried to get back to work on his test. It was hard; every time he couldn't think of an answer, his mind would go wandering to a certain blonde. He hadn't seen him for four weeks when he first went to the club. The following days afterwards he couldn't bring himself to go back. Either he was very busy, or couldn't sum up enough courage to go, even by himself. Ron wanted them to go back. Harry didn't know if he could. Since the incident behind the corner store, he avoided going out, especially by himself. He didn't want to run into those creeps again. He sighed and shook his head. Once again, he tried to get back to work.

After school, Harry snagged his things from his locker and waited under a tree by the parking lot, nearest to where Ron's assigned student parking spot was. The day was exceptionally bright, and even though he was under the shade of the tree, Harry had to put a hand over his eyes and wait while they adjusted. He blinked a few times, and by the fifth blink, a certain redhead filled his vision. Harry took a step back and cast his best friend an annoyed look.

"Ready to go?" Ron chirped with a grin. He turned around halfway and held out his arm to Harry as if he expected the black-haired boy to take it like a girl being led to her prom.

Harry smacked the arm away. "Just walk."

Ron grinned again and dropped his arm, leading the way to where his car was parked. They climbed in and Ron drove to Harry's house. Harry pulled out a key and let them in, not bothering to state his appearance to his relatives. They trudged up the stairs, skipped the steps that squeaked, and holed up in Harry's room. Harry threw his things on the bed while Ron disposed of his bags at the foot of the bed on the wooden trunk. The redhead sat on the edge of the bed and waited as his friend stripped of his outer shirt and un-looped his belt. His hung his shirt on the back of his desk chair, and wound up his belt and placed it on his desk. His pants now hung from his hips instead of just below his waist as the dress code required. He flopped down onto the bed and leaned against the headboard, pushing his things to the side with his foot.

"So, what's this about going clubbing?"

Ron tilted his head to the side and shrugged with one shoulder. "We haven't been there in four weeks, and since then you've been zoning out and acting paranoid. Well, you've been acting paranoid since last week, but still. We should go back to the club. Maybe we'll see the son again." He paused to shudder. "I don't want to meet that father again, though. Guy's a creep."

Harry snorted. "And why should I go, now?"

Ron rolled his eyes. "C'mon. Why wouldn't you? You went the first time, so why not again. Like I said, you could go see Prince Mysterious and Pompous again and have a drink and get married and have a bunch of kids running around your house on the countryside and live happily ever after. Blah, blah, blah. Whatever the bloody hell you want. You just gotta go, Harry! I'm commanding you. If you don't come with me, then I'll kidnap you or... uh, make you wear PINK and _then_ drag you to the club!"

As much as the sound of wearing pink clothing horrified Harry, he had enough sense to rule that torment out. "Ron, the place only allows dark clothing."

Shot down but not out. Ron quickly thought of a replacement. "Well, then, I'll make you wear pink at school! It'll last for a week! I have a younger sister, and since you're so damn skinny, you'll probably fit into her clothes."

"I resent that," Harry snorted. "And no thank you. I'd rather do without the nightmares. Jeez, Ron, I'll go with you, but I don't see why."

Ron flashed him a smile. "Why, mate, it's all for your own good, of course. I'm just helping you out."

Harry immediately saw through his best friend's falsity and rolled his head. "_Sure_."

Ron rubbed his hands together. "Now, we have a lot of time to spare, so let's start cracking."

"Ron, we need to finish our homework," Harry stated as-a-matter-of-factly. He disliked homework and the assignments he was put through, but he still did them as best as he could, and FIRST before anything else. It wasn't like he had anything else to do whenever Ron wasn't dragging him all over the place.

Ron gave the black-haired boy a look that meant, "What else would I be talking about?" and said, "Well, of _course_ I was talking about homework! What else?"

Once again, Harry knew that Ron hated homework like the plague and wouldn't touch it if unless Harry was there to make sure he did it. Shaking his head, Harry drew his things toward him and pulled out the supplies he needed to do his homework. He checked the clock before he began and frowned, knowing it was going to be a long night.

---

Ron and Harry pulled up to the parking space before _Blood Fest_ and climbed out of the car. Harry tugged at the hem of his shirt, trying to force it down. He couldn't believe Ron made him wear this trash. He was dressed in loose, but hip riding black pants, his fashion boots, and a fitted black shirt with sleeves and reached just above his elbow. The shirt was a bit small for him, and even though it was fitted, the bottom kept riding up to expose his navel. His pants weren't helping to fix this problem either, thanks to Ron's "handy and expert picking." Ron made sure Harry showed a bit of skin and couldn't so anything to hide himself besides cross his arms over his stomach (which would look so awkward and weird that it would probably attract more attention that way). Not to mention how Harry's skin sparkled strangely whenever he crossed a light on their way to the front of the line. Ron stole a make-up product from his sister, Ginny, that was meant for the stage. Ron, having been a make-up victim of his sister when they were younger, knew how to properly apply the product to Harry's skin so that he didn't look too terribly pale under the neon lights of the club. And under normal lamplights and streetlights, he glowed. His eyes, which already glowed like a cat's at night, radiated tonight. Harry didn't like it, nor the fact that all the people he passed stared at him, but he couldn't hide while Ron had hold of his arm and was practically hauling him into the club. When they passed the bouncers, one eyed Harry and quickly looked away, feeling embarrassed and naked. (Hell, he might as well have been with all the pairs of eyes landing on him.)

Harry ran a hand through his ever-messy hair and puffed as his bangs semi-curtained his eyes. He let Ron drag him past the dance floor and up the stairs to the second floor. Ron left him for the bar and Harry was able to slide along the wall and stay away from the action and all the raunchy dancing that scared him half to death. When Harry found a large enough blank spot on the wall, he stuck to it like a fly to flypaper. He crossed his arms over his stomach as best he could and kept an eye out for any drunks who might wander his way and mistake him for a bedmate. He shuddered at the thought and pressed his back against the wall, half hoping it would eat him or make him invisible. It didn't really work, because whenever someone would pass him, they would either stop and stare, or look over their shoulder as they continued to walk by. He didn't like the stares or the attention.

With a sigh, Harry watched the dancing lights that bounced off the peoples' bodies, sometimes changing their skin or hair a different color. He was memorized by the different patterns dancing off the people and walls, off the floor and ceiling. The dance, though not exactly the most appealing thing in the world, was nearly hypnotic. Harry felt his eyes droop a bit as he lost himself in the music and rhythm.

"Ah, Harry was your name, wasn't it?" a voice suddenly broke through to him.

Harry quickly turned to see a familiar blonde standing near him, smiling with his mouth closed again. "Uh, yeah. Draco, right?"

The blonde nodded. "Surprised to see you here again. Usually I don't remember all the names and faces of my guests since they always bring in new friends and sometimes disappear for a while before coming back. I only recognize my regulars and workers, really. So, you're back. Can I take it you like it here?" he quickly changed the subject.

Harry blinked. He looked around to try and find something to comment on. "Um. The music is really hypnotic, and the light patterns are really interesting." Harry smacked himself inwardly for saying such a stupid thing.

Draco didn't seem to find anything amiss and nodded. "Yes. You can thank the DJ for that. He works on the first floor, but if you pass by him, tell him. I'm sure he'll appreciate it. He might have on headphones, though. He doesn't like loud music, yet he's working the sound system." He chuckled at the irony and smiled.

Harry smiled back a bit. "Sure."

They stood there for a moment before Draco struck up the conversation again. "How about I treat you to a drink?"

Harry blinked. "Uh, no thanks. I don't drink. I have to stay sober for the ride home because I know my friend won't be."

Draco smiled again. "Don't worry, we can call you a cab to drive the two of you home and get someone to tow your vehicle wherever it needs to be. And if you're that worried about alcohol, I can have the bartender fix something up that's nonalcoholic, if you'd like."

Harry hesitantly nodded. If it had been someone else, he admitted to himself, he wouldn't have agreed. But it was Draco, and the blonde just had a strong sense of persuasion about him that Harry couldn't resist too well. Draco seemed pleased by his answer and gently took Harry by the elbow and led him back to the bar. They climbed over the metal rod and walked up to the bar.

Draco beckoned the bartender forward and grinned at him. "I'll take a Sanguisuga." (3)

The bartender widened his eyes and creased his brow in confusion. The Sanguisuga was a rare and special kind of drink. Whenever Draco ordered on, it was on a really _special_ occasion. He looked over the blonde's shoulder to see the black-haired boy whom ducked his head. He looked him up and down and was intrigued. With a chuckle, the bartender nodded and turned back around to prepare the drink. When the other man left, Draco turned back to Harry and leaned against the bar table as he waited for the bartender to return. (4)

When the bartender came back with a fine glass of deep red liquid, he gave it to Draco who held it up in the dancing lights. The lights danced around the crystal, but didn't penetrate the liquid, for some odd reason. Harry was starting to doubt if he should drink the substance.

"The Sanguisuga is a deep red, darker and more rich than the Red Sea Moses parted to lead the slaves of Egypt across. People go through great trouble to obtain this drink, but very few are allowed to even see the bottle it's held in." Draco smiled as his eyes landed on Harry's. "It's very special. Not even money or death can persuade a seller into giving it away."

Harry glanced at the glass. "It's that great?" He shook his head and held up a hand to decline. "I can't take it, then. You can't spend your best wine, or beer, or whatever that is, on me. I don't deserve it as a 'treat'."

Draco lifted a brow. "A 'beer'? Harry, you must be kidding me. The Sanguisuga is not just any drink. It's the heaven (or hell, if you prefer) of all drinks. It does not fall under any category other than 'sinful delicacies.' It is like Godiva chocolate, or diamonds and gold; it's actually far better than even that! _Please_, I must insist. It is rare to get a glass of this, and I insist that you at least try some. Do not worry, my family is worthy of having a whole vat of it, so there is plenty to spare. _Try some_."

By now Draco had pushed the glass into Harry's raised hand and closed his fingers around it. Harry had no choice but to accept the glass and hold onto it or else drop it because Draco had let go almost immediately. Harry stared down at the dark liquid. In his shadow, it looked nearly black. He looked up at Draco and saw the anticipating look in his eyes that just begged for Harry to try it. Harry shook his head mentally and lifted the glass to his lips. The glass was cold, but the liquid it held was... lukewarm? Warm? There was no word for it. If Harry hadn't cut himself and bit his lip before, he would have guessed that it was blood. But the Sanguisuga was thinner than blood, and far less metal tasting.

Draco smiled fully when Harry took a gulp of the drink. He quickly pressed his lips together before the boy looked back up again. When he did, he took the cup from him and tok note of the strange look in his eyes. How amazing this creature looked in the dancing light of his club and after a taste of the Sanguisuga. Magnificent...

Draco took Harry by the arm and gently led him away from the bar, casting a certain look over his shoulder to the bartender who took the glass and rolled his eyes in response. There was hardly a doubt as to what Draconius was about to do... But would it be slightly different from the last human boy? Who knew...

---

AN: Yes, that's it! That's my chapter. A lot of surprises, no? I'm having some trouble keeping characters in order due to my bad vibe in writing, but I hope they're all still okay. Well, maybe except Harry (stupid --- yet lovely --- outcast boy), but other than that everyone should still be okay. Tell me if something's amiss. Or do you like the strangeness? Comments are supa' good!

1) Fwee! Are there any Draco/Blaise lovers out there? Ooh--- what do you say? Do you like that snip? It gave me the jitters just writing it! Please, if anyone enjoys sudden changes (in pace, in slash--- anything!) and adores my twists every now and then, please tell me so! I oh-so love encouragement and lovely, lovely reviews!

2) I'll have you know that this is the next day. Not the same day. Gotta follow day and logic-ness, of course. (But that obviously didn't happen when I thought of the whole "let's have a bar on the SECOND FLOOR so drunks can FALL DOWN THE STAIRS!!" thing. ...Eheh.)

3) Really, this name comes from the Triatoma Sanguisuga that's translated as the "assassin bug." Certainly not a drink, I'll say, but if you think about it, the name could work, right? (Uh, probably not, but who cares? I say it makes sense and that's that! Mleh!)

4) Hush! I am club/bar illiterate! I'm not even old enough to go into a bar! And I wouldn't want to anyway. I have no business there and I probably wouldn't have time to anyway with the way my life works. Meh. Anyway, if I ever say something stupidly wrong about a club or whatever, please correct me if you wish, because I wouldn't know the difference even if it came and ran me over.

PS: Ah, and yes! I almost forgot! Thanks a bunch to all my reviewers who helped me with Pansy's and Blaise's name. It made things a lot easier for me and typing more enjoyable. Encouraging and helpful reviews like that always remind me of how much my readers care. huggles fans and gives a big pack of Pocky


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